The Sacrifices We Make
by the things that define you
Summary: Death had found him again, and just like last time there was nothing he could do. So he watched, as his new family was ripped from him again, just like the one before them. Now he must stay, and live with the sacrifices they made.


The Sacrifices We Make

Death had caught up to him again. It took its cool bony hands and pried away everything. He stood now, his pistol now turned down on the kneeling maniac in front of him. He didn't see the oversized helmet, the insanity, he saw their faces, burned into his mind through all the gore and blood, their own gallery separate from the one made before it.  
Sarg had been the first one lost. There was an ambush. False information leading the gloyous red leader and his men straight into a trap. Their Warthog intact, the reds fled. Simmons was shot out of the vehicle, blood pouring out of his side. Their was a u turn. No man left behind. Doughnut was loading Simmons back into the truck when they caught up with them. There was at least a dozen of them, less then ten feet away, right where Sarge wanted them. His shotgun rang throughout the canyon, singing the tune of death to any pirate stupid enough to get close. Many a fool was 'sarged' that day.  
Wash showed up with reinforcements not a minute later. He was just in time to see the fall of a friend. There was blood, so much blood. On the ground, the tight canyon walls, the dead, the living, and the red leader. It coated everything, as if it knew what color seeped through the man's soul.  
The shotgun was clearly empty, it was the only reason he would ever not use it. It was attached to his back, done, but not forgotten. Sarg's head turned at the sound of the hogs, a sound of joy coming through the mic.  
"Washington! I'm out of ammo in my Shotgun!"  
Wash understood. He ordered his hog through the gap, past the red leader and into the pirates. They didn't get up. In seconds solders swarmed the gap, pushing back the enemy.  
Wash ran to the man he had come to call his friend. He was sitting down, back to the canyon, cradling his beloved weapon. There were more bullet holes in him then even the Meta would have a right to walk through.  
"Make sure..." he started as the special agent kneeled next to him. "Make sure we win." He took his last breath and his armor rang KIA.

The effect was immediate. Doughnut cried, Griff showed up to training, and Simmons disappeared, only reappearing the day of his leaders funeral. Sarg was buried with his shotgun. Immediately after, Simmons showed the upgrades gave to his cybernetics. Auto aiming snipers, machine guns, rockets. After only one mission he got a new nickname from the troops who followed him into battle. Armored Avenger.

Doughnut left them about a month later. His routine patrol didn't come back from their perimeter check of the capitol. The reason why came two days later.

Artillery rained on the capitol as pirates flooded the walls, killing the guard. Soon battle consumed the city. Gray and Doyal ringed in KIA first, defending the wounded. They were hit first. There was no time to morn. Pirates kept coming, no matter how many were shot down. Sharkface was reported on scene, right before the solider on the radio was consumed by screams and the sound of fire. From desperation, there came a plan. The rebels and feds all over the city gave ground, drawing the enemy into the center. Carolina drew her nemesis in with his men. Despite her reassuring, Wash had known she didn't plan on making it out. As soon as the survivors were clear, escaping through the underground, Church detonated biggest bomb the rag tag army had, Simmons. The Armored Avenger died seeing, being, red.

In the weeks to follow Wash had simply wanted to die, to join his friends in the afterlife. But he was need in the land of the living, so he lived. Kymbal was a wreck, her limit passed years ago. She was broken now, slowly drifting into insanity. The others didn't fair much better. Griff wouldn't eat, Tucker actually turned down a woman. The hot volleyball friend of Jenson's. Caboose never missed a chance to practice with Feckals. If Wash was being honest, he wasn't much better himself. Not that he could let it show. His men needed him. So he led them.  
They would march for days on end, avoiding detection, raiding anything for food. It was pathetic. Not only were they weak, they were predictable. During their next raid. Felix was waiting for them. He stood there at the front of the base, daring them with his presence to try and steal the food inside. His newly activated enegy sword hummed in his hand. They fell for it. Every remaining red and blue charged him, Tucker leading them, Wash was right behind him. He blames himself for what happened next.  
Felix let them come, not bothering to move an inch. His pirates didn't fire, keeping their guns pointed at the remaining rebels. Feckals was the only one not fooled. Washington heard his name called through the speakers. Then a gunshot. His vision became filled with blue and the radio with a scream. Caboose lay before him, blood pouring out of his chest. Lopez and Griff had immediately sprayed down cover fire, the rebels and feds now charging toward death to be closer to their leaders. In the middle of it all, Wash saw only the body before him. Caboose had taken a bullet for him. Why had he ever doubted them? WHY! He screamed the word. WHY! Of course Caboose would have the answer.  
"Duh Agent Washington." Blood trickled out from his helmet. He sounded just like he did almost a year ago. Had that really been such a short time ago? "We're friends, and this is what friends do for each other." Wash was crying now. Years of frustration, of pain, of hurt, smashed into him. He had finally found friends, and now some stupid hired thugs were taking from him. Caboose was the first of his friends to die in his arms. Wash looked up. Hatred seething through him. This bloodshed would end today. With one last look at Tucker, Washington charged the base. Griff and Lopez followed, leading the tide of white. Washington didn't notice. His aim was perfect, every move calculated, cold, lethal. There was no escape. He tore through them all. Invisible or no, he would find his target.  
He had lost track of Griff and Lopez in the battle long ago. Despite that, he pushed foward, hunting his prey. Washington found the two mercenaries back to back. A pool of blood surrounded them, coating their armor and the corpses littered around them. Tucker was pushing Felix, only having to back up when the mercenaries would switch, Locus using his shotgun to dive the aqua clad solder back as Felix would kill any rebel or fed who was in front of him.  
Wash fired, his bullets halted by Felix's blue shield. With a shout, the former Freelancer rolled a granade between the two mercenaries. The pair let in different directions, Felix landing directly into combat with Tucker. Locus turned toward Wash, it was clear. He would not try and hide.  
Washington let out a burst from his weapon. Locus rolled to the side, avoiding the bullets. The mercenaries shotgun cracked to live, spraying it's bullets toward the now charging Freelancer. He dove low, a bullet grazing his thigh. Ignoring it, Wash pulled the knife he had kept all these years and drove it at Locus's stomach. It found its mark, sinking through armor and tearing into flesh. A burst from the shotgun tore into his shoulder, giving Locus time to back up. The mercenary leapt into the air, one arm outstretched, the other pointing the shotgun at Washington. From across the room, Felix dodged one of Tucker ' slashes, taking the spare split second to throw a knife to his partner. It landed perfectly in Locus's hand.  
The mercinary led with his shotgun, firing to make Wash dive to the side. A wide slash with the knife followed. His arms met just long enough for Locus to rearm his shotgun. The assault didn't let up from there. Another slash with the knife was aimed at Washington's legs. Following his momentum, Locus spun his whole body left, bringing his shotgun out in front of him. Wash dove beneath the spray of bullets, narrowly missing the stab aim at his moving figure. Exploding upwards, the Freelancer pulled a plasma grenade and smashed it against his opponents back. The impact knocked Locus forward, perfectly set up for the Spartan kick that followed, sending the mercenary crashing into the wall. A split second after impact, the grenade exploded.  
Wash turned to help Tucker. He was met with the sight of the aqua clad marine being stabbed through the heart by his opponents energy sword. The room froze. Felix backed up, leaving the sword through Tucker's crumpling body. Washington couldn't bring himself to scream, to fight, to even try and kill the orange and black monster that now faced him. Felix, made one crucial mistake. He turned his back.  
An energy sword slashed through the mercenary, cutting him at the waist. The wielder wasted no time making another slash that went through Felix's helmet. It didn't let up.  
"Bow chicka bow wow motherfu..." Tucker started, collapsing before he could finish his line. Blood trickled from the stab wound. Washington rushed over to the dying man. There was no need for words. For the second time that day, Agent Washington cried, and for the second time that day, a friend died in his arms.  
He had run out of energy to scream long ago. Only tears and a humble safeguard over the body showed how much the special agent cared. Even the tears were running out. There had been so much death this day.  
The sound of clanking armor and a grunt broke Washington from his silence. He turned to face who he knew it was. Locus was still alive, his armor probably far more advanced then most. It wouldn't save him this time. Wordlessly, Washington rose, silently walking toward the still stumbling mercinary. Lightning fast, Washington grabbed the oversized helmet and slammed it back into the wall. The mercenary sunk to his knees. When he looked up there was a pistol aimed at his skull.  
Washington didn't see the oversized helmet, the insanity. He saw their faces. Burned into his mind through all the gore and blood. Their own gallery separate from the one made before it.  
"What are you going to do Agent Washington? Shoot me?"  
BANG!

 **Hey guys. Hope you enjoyed it. Something I thought of a few days ago that I just had to put into words. It was sad to write, but this is probably one of the styles I enjoy the most as both a reader and a writer. Don't expect much else from me. I'm thinking of how to do some more stuff on my other stories. The next the North Star chapter is already pre written, just need to type it up. Might plan out the next chapter as I'm at it.**

 **Other than that have a nice life and keep enjoy season 13 of RvB.**


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